it's delusion @chosovixen - Tumblr Blog

ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ | ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴀꜱᴋ ʙᴏx!!

©ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏᴠɪxᴇɴ 2022 — ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴀɴᴅ/ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ.

**𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔦 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔲𝔭/𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔤𝔢**

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧

•18+ Adults Only

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luxesiren

⸻ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | frank castle x black reader!

✴︎ synopsis :: frank comes back home after being gone for a mission.

✴︎ tags :: MDNI 18+ merc!frank castle, housewife!reader, established relationship (yall married chile), slight fluff, light obsessive tendencies/thoughts, smut: oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, breeding kink, cum eating, praise kink, and mating press.

✴︎ a/n :: is it too early to be writing smut?? NO WAY. i had this thought since literally yesterday and i thank @chosovixen for fueling this and i technically wrote it for her so😛 thangyaaaa sista! borders from: @cafekitsune

#frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #frank castle x black!reader #marvel fanfiction

chosovixen

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇꜰᴜʟ, ꜱʟᴏᴡ ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ Qᴜɪᴄᴋʟʏ ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀᴀɴɢ. ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ, ʜᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪꜱ ɢɪʀʟꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ, ᴋᴀᴛᴀʀᴀ, ɪꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ. ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʙꜱᴇɴᴛ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴜᴛᴛᴇʀʟʏ ᴡɪᴘᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ?

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6

chosovixen

chapter 6! final chapter out now

#atla movie #icymi <3 #aang fanfic #kataang

chosovixen

ʜᴏᴡ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ?

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

chosovixen

chapter 5 out!! one more to go!!

#atla movie #icymi <3 #aang fanfic #kataang

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions

Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

chosovixen

ʜᴏᴡ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ?

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

chosovixen

chapter 4 is up!!

#atla movie #icymi <3 #aang fanfic #kataang

chosovixen

ʜᴏᴡ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ?

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

chosovixen

we’re 3 chapters in!!

#atla movie #icymi <3 #aang fanfic #kataang #atla katara #atla aang #atla kataang

ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴘᴛ.2 (ᴋᴀᴛᴀʀᴀ x ᴀᴀɴɢ x ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴀᴅʏ)

ᴄᴡ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.6ᴋ

They were down to whispers by the time the canyon wind settled. The wood from the fire crackled once, twice—then turned to a soft orange eye that watched the room with them.

Aang laid on his back, hands stacked beneath his head, counting the faint swishes of Appa’s tail outside. The group had learned to sleep again in the last week—no more dark apparitions, no more stress. His manifestations had ebbed to a polite murmur of air, small and obedient, like a sleepy bison. Peaceful was the word Sokka had grumbled that morning, and then, suspicious, like it might be a prank.

Aang told himself it was good. He told himself that quiet meant balance. But the quiet also made room for something else, something he folded and refolded behind his ribs like a letter he wasn’t supposed to have.

Katara rolled onto her side, her outline a soft cutout against the fabric of her nightgown. Her hair fell from its loop like a small tide, and she tucked it behind her ear, fingers lingering a little longer than necessary. That tiny insistence—of a touch repeating itself—was the only sign he’d learned to watch for, the only warning he got before she let a thought loose into the room.

“Aang,” she said. His name in the quiet was like a smooth stone dropped in a pond.

He turned his head. “Mm?”

“Do you—” She bit the inside of her cheek, searching for a beginning. The flames made a long gleam across the curve of her lip. “It’s been a week.”

He could have said, since the last storm. Since the village stopped leaving milk bowls on the quay. Since a woman with a red stripe across her mouth stepped out of the fog and took them both in ways only the water remembers. He did not say any of that. He said, “Yeah.”

Katara smiled, as if that counted. “I’ve been thinking about her.”

Aang swallowed, slowly. The breath he took was shaky—as if he knew what she was going to ask. “Me too,” he said.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “Which feels silly, when you’ve seen me bring up… everything.”

He chuckles softly, the corners of his mouth now twitching into a smile. “So what are you saying?”

Katara’s cheeks flush slightly—a soft pink hue spreading across them. “You know what I’m saying,” she whispers.

“I want to hear you say it though,” his voice is low, in a way that has Katara’s whole body shuddering—as if it had taken a screenshot.

“I want her…here with us again, Aang.” She looks away shyly. It was just her and Aang, yet it felt so taboo.

“We can’t just summon her for that though…seems a bit selfish, don’t you think?” He let the words rest, not too heavy but realistic. He had learned the difference between calling and yanking. The week had taught him the weight of not asking the world to do cartwheels just because he could.

“Yeah,” Katara mumbled softly before her head dipped lower and she closed her eyes. “I just keep replaying that afternoon in my mind and—,” she lets out a shaky breath, almost as if she was stopping herself from letting the thought reignite a fire in her core. She looks back up at Aang. “Can we at least talk to her?”

Aang nods, the motion slow and deliberate, then pushes himself upright in the bed. He folds his legs beneath him, grounding through the mattress. Across from him, Katara mirrors the pose with quiet precision, her hair falling forward as she reaches for his hands. Her palms are warm, familiar; the moment their fingers lace, a quick, bright shiver runs up his spine.

Eyes closed, he draws air deep into his lungs, then lets it slip free. Again. And once more, until the clutter of thoughts recedes to the edges. He sets aside the noise, tucks it behind the door of his mind, and focuses on the simple rhythm: in, out; gather, release.

His next exhale spills into the room and seems to linger, a thin ribbon of sound that brushes the stillness and fades into nothing. The night listens back. An owl calls once beyond the window, a soft question hanging in the dark.

Aang opens his eyes. Shadows hold to their corners; the small shapes of their things sit exactly where they should. Nothing stirs. Katara tilts her head, puzzled, and scans the room with him.

Then hands—soft, confident—sweep over Aang’s chest, mapping muscle and breath, gliding over warm skin until they come to rest low on his abdomen. A mouth hovers at his ear; not quite a kiss, but the heat of it lifts the fine hairs along his neck. His eyes flutter. He tightens his grip on Katara’s fingers, anchoring in her steady pulse.

Katara whips her gaze back to him—and sees her. The Painted Lady stands within the hush, moonlit and river-cool, veiled smile brightening as if a current had turned. Their eyes meet and hold. “I was wondering when you’d call for me again,” she whispers against Aang’s ear, but her attention is fixed on Katara, hunger old as tide.

“You came,” Katara breathes, the words thinned to almost a whisper.

The Painted Lady straightens, one hand resting lightly atop Aang’s head, the other lifting her wide-brimmed hat and setting it on the nightstand with a soft, deliberate tap. “Would there be a reason for me not to?” The question lingers in the stillness, as cool and weightless as mist. Katara gives a small shake of her head.

“So… why did you call for me?” the spirit asks, her voice smoothing into the hush as she eases onto the edge of the bed. Fabric glides and settles around her, the dress catching the moonlight and hinting at movement beneath—Aang tries not to stare.

He shifts, a ripple of nerves crossing his features. “To talk,” he says, the word coming out careful, almost too even.

A low, musical chuckle escapes the Painted Lady. “I am a part of you,” she says, tapping his chest with a single, precise finger. “I know what stirs in that mind of yours. You’ll need a better lie.”

“If you already knew, then why ask?” Aang mumbles, eyes dropping, then flicking back up.

One brow arches. “Still sharp-tongued,” she observes, a playful growl woven through the words. Aang mirrors her with a mock glare that makes Katara’s quiet laugh rise and fade like water over stone.

“We don’t want you to think we’re just… using you,” Aang begins again, voice softening into something earnest.

The Painted Lady laughs—lighter this time, amused rather than cutting. “Please,” she says, tilting her head. The simple motion sends a new glimmer across her veiled smile. “We both remember how last time went. Or should I remind you of who was crying?” Her tone hums at the edges, velvet-smooth, the hint of a purr resolving into warmth rather than heat—making Aang blush with embarrassment. “Right,” she smiles.

“Now, I’ll ask again. Why did you two call me here?” Her voice was dripping with dominance and a slight hint of teasing.

Katara and Aang looked at each other before looking back at the Painted Lady—the way she laid across the bed as if it was her own, as if she fit perfectly into their lives without even realizing it.

“We wanted to see you again,” Katara’s voice is thick. Aang nods along. “We wanted to feel you again—but that’s only if you’ll let us,” she adds quickly.

An explanation was never needed. The Painted Lady knew why they called and, in fact, had been waiting for it. She yearned for their touch and tenderness while sealed away—she just wanted to hear them say it.

Without another word, she slowly begins to undo her dress—the fabric falling from her body. Her smooth skin on display. She lets the dress pool at her waist, then slides it lower, a slow, deliberate reveal, the fabric brushing against skin like water over reeds.

Katara's breath catches. Aang's fingers twitch in hers.

The Painted Lady rises to her knees on the mattress, and the dress slips the rest of the way free. She is bare and unashamed, her body a thing of soft, impossible curves, the moonlight tracing the hollow of her throat, the dip of her collarbone, the full swell of her breasts. The red stripe curls at the corner of her mouth like a secret she's been keeping.

Katara makes a sound—small, involuntary, the kind that escapes before the mind can catch it. Her grip on Aang's hand goes tight enough to hurt, but he doesn't pull away. He can't. His mouth has gone dry, and his pulse is hammering somewhere behind his eyes, and the air.

The atmosphere had thickened, turned warm, and charged—the way the sky does before a storm breaks.

The Painted Lady looks at them both with that patient, unhurried expression. "Come here," she says. Not a request. “I don’t bite.”

Katara moves first. She crosses the short distance between them on her knees, nightgown swishing against the sheets, and stops close enough that her exhale stirs the air at the Painted Lady's throat. Katara lifts her hand and touches her face, thumb tracing the red stripe from corner to corner, slow and wondering.

The Painted Lady covers Katara's hand with her own—holding it there, pressing her palm flat against her cheek. Her skin is cool, pleasant against Katara's body heat. She turns her head and presses her mouth to the center of Katara's palm. Katara's eyes fall half-shut.

Aang watches from two feet away, sitting very still, his hands open on his knees. He is trying to breathe evenly and failing. His heartbeat has migrated to the base of his throat, insistent and embarrassingly loud to his own ears. He watches the Painted Lady's mouth move against Katara's palm, watches Katara's fingers curl involuntarily around the kiss like she's trying to hold it.

The Painted Lady's gaze slides sideways over Katara's shoulder and finds him there.

"You're very far away," she observes.

"I'm right here," he says. His voice comes out lower than he intended.

"Then act like it."

He closes the distance. His knees settle behind Katara on the mattress—close enough that his chest nearly touches her back, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off both of them at once, the layered warmth of two very different beings. His hands find Katara's waist through the thin fabric of her nightgown, and she exhales at the contact, a slow, released sound. His large hands then slowly move higher—cupping her breast and squeezing ever so slightly.

A soft whine escapes Katara’s lips—needy and grueling. Aang’s grasp becomes firmer against Katara, rolling her hard peaks between his fingers through her nightgown. “You like that?” He whispers in her ear, only for her to hear—she nods. “Speak to me, baby,” he says.

“Yes,” she gasps. “I love it.”

He smirks against her ear before kissing the lobe gently, his hands continuing to massage her soft mounds. The Painted Lady tugs the hem of Katara’s nightgown upward, and for a brief moment, Aang’s hands leave their post to help slip the nightgown over Katara’s head.

Once the nightgown pools on the floor, the room feels quieter somehow—more intimate, his hands find purchase back on her breast. The Painted Lady settles back against the pillows, her dark hair fanning out around her like ink in water. She watches Aang and Katara with soft, wandering eyes, like she still can't quite believe she's here, with them, welcomed so completely.

Her hands smooth down her body—between the valley of her breast, then lower till she’s reached the trim of her panties. A soft cotton material that she slowly slides down her thighs, kicking them off to the side.

Katara and Aang stop their movement to look over at her. She looked like the embodiment of sin itself, lying between their sheets. Something in Aang's throat catches as he swallows hard. Katara wastes no time and pulls herself from his grasp to hover over her—spreading the Painted Lady’s legs with her own. She settles between her thighs, their bodies the same but different altogether in a way. Katara leans forward, cupping her cheek and kisses her slowly, with the kind of patience that says I have all the time in the world for you.

Aang watches in excitement, discreetly adjusting himself as these two ladies get off on each other. He can feel himself growing painfully hard—aching and needing to be touched.

In the midst of their steamy makeout session, hands roaming over each other’s bodies—the Painted Lady flips Katara onto her back, now between her legs and pressing her firmly into the sheets. Katara lets out a soft, needy gasp.

“Fuck,” Aang curses under his breath as he inches closer. He was losing his mind in the best way possible. They pull away, placing one last kiss on each other’s lips before turning to Aang. “You two having fun?” He teases, and they both chuckle—something deep and rich despite their compromising position. “Mind if I join?”

The Painted Lady sits up completely, pulling Katara up with her. “You’re always welcomed to,” she says with a small smile. Her fingers ghost the hem of his pants. “Take these off,” she whispers the command—and in one swift movement, his pants are gone, discarded with the other articles of clothing.

His cock springs free. Thick, heavy, one prominent vein on the underside, the tip leaking precum—scary but mouth-watering altogether. His muscles flex before relaxing as he looks between the two women. He needed to feel something now—he was desperate and holding on by a thread. His fist clenched at his side as his gaze shifted between them.

“Tell us what you want,” The Painted Lady says.

“I want," his breathing is shaky. “I want to be inside of you,” he nods towards Katara, and she nods in return. Her arms wrap around his neck, and she pulls him into a tender kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth, making him moan softly. He lays her back gently on the sheets—his massive thighs spreading her legs apart. Aang reluctantly pulls away, a string of saliva briefly connecting them. He looks down at her, her sex is still clothed—without thinking, he grabs the hem with both hands and rips it apart, the material left in threads as he tosses it aside. He blinks softly. “Shit—sorry. I don’t know why I did that,” he mumbled, and Katara giggled.

“You owe me a new pair,” she jokes.

“Of course, baby.” He whispers the promise. He looks at her for a long moment. He's known her face for years, memorized every version of it—laughing, crying, furious, determined. But somehow, in the quiet of this room, with the soft light and the Painted Lady watching gently from beside them, she still manages to take his breath away completely.

"Hi," he says softly, like they've just met.

She smiles. "Hi."

He leans down and presses his forehead to hers, the way he always has—their old language, the one that needed no words. He then presses a soft kiss to her lips as he lines himself up. A deep groan escapes him as he rubs the tip through her folds, collecting her wetness as natural lubricant. Slowly, he pushes in, making her arch into him already and moan softly. He kisses her jaw—the subtle act making her clench around him. “Fuck, baby,” he growls in her ear. “Don’t do that. I might come too soon,” he whispers against her skin.

The Painted Lady smooths her hand over his back, her slender fingers tickling his skin as he pushes deeper into Katara. Once he’s fully bottomed out in her, heavy balls pressed against her ass—he gives her time to adjust before pulling out slowly, then thrusting in deeper.

He picks up the pace slightly, his hips slamming against her plush ass with wet, slapping sounds filling the room. His hands grip her hips hard, leaving marks on her skin as he fucks her deeply. Each thrust makes her full tits bounce.

"That's it, take it all, baby." He leans down, biting her shoulder softly—making her cry out loud before he kisses the same spot. “You like that?" He asks softly, rolling his hips slowly so she could feel every inch of his thick cock stretching her tight walls. Katara could only gasp and claw at his back, making him smirk against her skin.

He can feel her clenching tight around him, and it takes everything in him not to come so soon. He keeps hitting her g-spot as she moans uncontrollably, one hand reaching down to play with her clit—fingers moving gently against the little bud. Katara’s moans fill his ears as he feels her walls starting to flutter. "That's it, that's it—" he whispers against her ear, feeling her tighten around him. "Come for me if you need to, princess."

Her whole body trembles, a loud cry escaping her glossy lips as she comes hard on his cock, walls clenching and releasing around him. "Fuck yes, just like that," he groans, not stopping his thrusts as he fucks her through her orgasm.

The Painted Lady just watches in awe as Katara comes a part on his cock—a slight hunger building inside her. She leans down and kisses the small tears on Katara’s cheek. “Look at you,” she coos softly as she pets her hair.

Aang pulls out slowly, making Katara whine at the loss. His cock was covered in her juices and glistening. The Painted Lady wastes no time and wraps her lips around his length—her tongue flattens as she takes him whole. Katara lies under them as she tries to catch her breath. A satisfied moan leaves Aang’s lips as the Painted Lady cleans his cock with her tongue. She looks up at him—eyes big and needy, and he can feel his resolve slipping with how her mouth stretches around his length as she stares up at him.

“Damn it,” he mutters softly before pulling her off of him. Katara rolls off to the side as the Painted Lady lies in her place now. Her legs spread, invitingly, and Aang positioned himself between them.

“Now let’s see if you’ll cry this time,” she teases.

“Shut up,” Aang chuckles.

She grabs his face and brings it dangerously close to hers. “Watch it.”

“Yes, ma'am," he bites back as he pumps himself once, twice. He rubs the head between her folds, slapping his massive length against her clit lightly. Then he does something unexpected—he flips her onto all fours and smacks her ass softly, making her gasp at the sudden change. He lines himself up behind her, grabbing onto her hips and pushing in slowly. He starts pounding into her, grabbing her hair and wrapping it around his hand once, pulling so she’s in a deep arch.

She lets out a loud cry while Aang sets this brutal pace. It has Katara sitting up to look at him, her legs squeezing together. He reaches around to squeeze the Painted Lady’s breast as he fucks her from behind. Each thrust made her ass ripple against his pelvis.

He reaches underneath to play with her clit as he fucks her, but it’s too much. She tries running, pulling off his cock, but he pulls her back by her hair. He lets out a dark chuckle. “Aww, look at you,” he mocks. “What? Can’t take it?” he growls as he wraps his arms around her, his massive body trapping her against him as he pounds into her.

Her moans become louder, back arching as he fucks into her relentlessly. His fingers rub fast and tight circles over her clit as he feels her pussy spasming.

He groans loudly as he buries his face into the Painted Lady’s neck. His tattoos flickering to life without warning—soft pulses of light, like a candle catching in a breeze. He exhaled slowly, trying to center himself. Still the mind. Still the breath. Katara looks up at him in concern and something deeper—his hips kept moving, making the Painted Lady whimper softly.

“You okay?” Katara whispers. Her hand finds purchase on his cheek, and his eyes open slowly. No more glowing.

“Feels too good,” he chuckles softly. “My body thinks I’m going into shock.”

Katara can’t help but laugh softly.

“I’m gonna come,” the Painted Lady cries out—making them shift their focus back to the woman. Her pussy tightens around him as he slams into her deep, holding himself there as she shakes through her orgasm. He gives her a minute before slowly releasing her, watching as she flops onto the bed—her legs trembling.

“Look who’s crying now,” Aang huffs. She glares at him, but she’s too fucked out to do anything about his sass.

Katara pulls him down on top of her, kissing him all over before her hands wrap around his cock—guiding it back inside of her without warning. He lets out a deep groan that rumbles in his chest. “Fuck, baby wa-,”

“Come inside me,” she whispers, and his eyes roll back and the request.

He spreads her thighs wide, taking a moment to appreciate her beautiful body—full tits bouncing, wide hips perfect for grabbing, and that pretty pussy already swollen and wet from the previous round. He starts fucking her slowly. The drag of his cock, making her head spin. The pace is slow and deep, savoring the feeling of her tight pussy gripping him. He leans down to capture her glossy lips in a messy kiss, his tongue sliding in to tangle with hers. "You're so pretty like this, you know that?" His voice low as he brushes her hair out of her face.

"Mmm, that's it baby," He murmurs against her lips as he picks up the pace slightly. Her breast jiggle with each thrust, driving him wild. He breaks the kiss to suck on her neck—hard enough to leave marks while pounding into her deeper and faster this time. He presses her legs together and brings them up to her chest as he gets deeper, making her clamp down on him, milking him. He groans as he feels her pussy pulsing, and he slides his fingers between her legs to rub her swollen clit. Katara comes with just a few tight circles over her clit and the drag of his cock in a breathy gasp. Feeling her come undone, Aang follows quickly behind her, burying himself deep inside her and shooting a warm load.

They stay like that for a bit before he’s pulling out slowly. He sits back watching as his cum drips out of Katara, her pussy red and swollen. He glances over his shoulder at the Painted Lady and grins—her arms are stretched wide, as she’s sprawled across the bed passed out.

He turns his attention back to Katara. “You okay?” She nods, her eyes heavy with sleep. “Alright, let’s get you both cleaned up and to bed then,” he chuckles.

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ: @luxesiren @justsomerandompersonintheworld @glaucousbabe

#katara smut #atla smut #avatar aang #smut #aang smut #atla aang #atla fanfiction #avatar the last airbender #atla

ʜᴏᴡ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ?

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6

#avatar aang #avatar the last airbended fanfiction #atla #atla aang #atla fanfiction #atla katara #atla kataang #katara smut #atla smut #aang smut #avatar the last airbender

chosovixen

ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ (ᴋᴀᴛᴀʀᴀ x ᴀᴀɴɢ x ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴀᴅʏ)

ᴄᴡ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴅᴀᴄʀʏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.6ᴋ

Again. It happened again.

A creation Aang had manifested from his stress had been running rampant. It wasn't easy being the Avatar, but no one expected things like this to happen. No one even knew things like this could happen. It was taking a toll on the group and everyone who may have been involved, and Aang felt horrible. He needed to get this under control but he didn't know what this was or how to begin stopping it.

Aang’s breath came ragged, the ground beneath him still humming with the echo of what he’d conjured and defeated. What looked to be ashy footprints littered the dirt like fragments of a nightmare refusing to fade.

Katara touched his sleeve. “Hey.” No judgment, just the calm of her voice like honey melting in warm water. “You okay?” she asks. Aang gives a half smile and nods.

“Come, sit with me,” she says. They climbed a hill a little away from camp, where the wind shared peaceful secrets with the rustling leaves. Aang folded his legs. Katara settled across from him, mirroring his posture.

“We’re going to find a way to stop this,” She reassured. “No matter how long it takes.”

Aang stared at his hands. “I don’t even know what ‘this’ is. What if…what if there is no way to stop this, Katara?” He sounded almost broken—like he was scared.

“Listen to me,” She reached forward, extending her hand to him, close enough for him to take if he wanted, far enough to let him choose. “You’re carrying the weight of the Avatar, and it’s getting you worked up, spilling over in ways no one can begin to understand yet. But we can try to understand it. Start with your breathing.”

“This is silly,” he chuckles dismissively.

“Aang,” She warns and he straightens up, clearing his throat.

He followed her instructions—eyes closed, breath in, hold, breath out—until the tremor in his chest evened.

“Now,” Katara said softly, “I want you to think of something that calms you. Someplace safe. Someone who makes you feel safe.”

Aang’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed as he took another deep breath. The wind suddenly stilled, and his mind went to warmth: the feel of Appa’s fur under his palms, the sound of his friends' laughter, the moonlight on water, the steadiness that always came when Katara stood near. A smile tugged at his lips, timid and honest, and seeing Aang smile made Katara smile.

Suddenly the lake’s surface rippled. Aang felt the shift—his eyes opened as he reached out to Katara, almost as if he were trying to shield her from whatever trouble they may encounter. Then, he saw it. A figure stood at the water’s edge, haloed in mist.

He breathed a shuddering breath, as if it almost hurt to do so. Aang stood—Katara didn’t miss a beat and stood too. They motioned closer, carefully—like little birds letting the wind push them forward while remaining prepared to stop instantly.

“H-hello?” Aang called out. No answer. The figure just stood there with its head down. Aang looked at Katara and she shrugged, prompting him to move forward. As they stepped closer, leaves crunched under their feet, making them both halt, eyes widening.

The figure looked up, sending a shiver down both of their spines. She looked like Katara, and didn’t. The same sure stance, the same quiet gravity and confidence—but her face was veiled and painted red, crimson lips bright as a wound. A reed hat shadowed her eyes, and the long sash at her waist stirred as if a tide moved through it. She was the Painted Lady, the river spirit from hushed stories—compassion wrapped in mystery.

Katara’s breath caught. “Aang… did you—?”

“I didn’t mean to.” He swallowed, staring at the apparition he’d pulled from the part of himself that reached for comfort. “I-I was thinking of you, how you make me feel….” He winced. “But she’s—I don’t know.” He looked back at the Painted Lady, his throat feeling dry and cheeks burning.

The Painted Lady tilted her head, the gesture so achingly familiar it made Aang’s chest ache. She carefully walked across the lake before stopping in the grass. “Okay, maybe this is good.”

“How is this good?” Aang whispered.

“Because this tells us something.” Katara’s voice was steady despite Aang’s panicking. “Your stress made those violent creatures—shapes without a purpose. But when you remained calm, you gave your apparition a story to try on.” She nodded toward the Painted Lady.

Aang’s gaze softened. “I didn’t choose her on purpose.” He murmured.

“Not with your head,” Katara said gently. “But with your heart.” She smiled.

Aang looked down, twiddling his thumbs. “If I can make these things appear by accident, what stops them from hurting people?”

Katara motioned for him to sit beside her—their shoulders touching. “Intention. Practice. We can treat this like any other form of bending—only it’s inside you.” She pointed to the Painted Lady, who waited with patient stillness on the grass. “Let’s try something. Ask her to come sit with us.”

Aang hesitated, then spoke, voice as careful as if he were holding fine china. “Please… sit with us.”

The Painted Lady stalked gracefully towards them, before sitting right in front of Aang—her hands resting in her lap. The proximity makes his cheeks flush as he scoots back a bit. Katara notices and giggles. “Good. Now breathe, and tell her how you want her to exist.”

“How I want her to exist?” Aang repeats. “I-I don't know,” he stutters.

“Aang relax,” Katara coos.

“This is just…all so stressful,” He breathes, holding his head in his hands. Katara sighs as she rubs his back.

The Painted Lady peers up at him, her eyes intense and filled with something. Katara’s gaze shifts to hers and they stare at each other for a minute—they hold that gaze longer, like they were trying to telepathically tell each other something and that's when Katara notices the Painted Lady smirk just a bit. She returns it, her hand still soothing Aang. Silently they plot through their eyes and before you know it Katara is motioning for the Painted Lady to come closer.

Now seated between his legs was Katara—or a version of Katara he had manifested. Aang removes his hands from his face, looks up and jolts slightly. “Oh…hey,” he says in a shaky breath—almost shy.

She doesn't respond, just looks at Katara almost as if she's asking her for permission to touch Aang. Katara nods and the Painted Lady carefully and teasingly smoothes her hands up Aang’s thighs. They're muscular and she could feel him tensing under her touch.

“What are you doing?” He breathes.

“Shh, just helping you relax,” Katara interjects. Her hands move to cup his face, making him look at her.

“We’re out in the open,” He bites back a whine. He tries to check his surroundings, but Katara gently snaps his head back to her gaze.

“No one is coming up here,” Katara says sure of herself.

The Painted Lady worked her way up to the hem of his pants, tugging slightly. Katara sneakily slid behind him—her chest pressed firmly against his back.

His heart rate picks up—if you listened closely you could probably hear it beating against his ribcage. Katara's voice was a bit deeper, still soothing but this tone made his cock twitch. He bit his bottom lip, trying, and failing to suppress a moan as his pants slowly were pulled off. The cool air and gentle breeze against his cock made him hunch over slightly—his lips parted and he let out a shaky whimper. Katara couldn't help but smirk deviously. He was already leaking precum, the tip an angry red. The Painted Lady’s hands find purchase on Aang’s thighs again.

His hips buck upward slightly and Katara gently grabs his throat and squeezes. “Hold still,” she purrs in his ear—a breathy whine escapes his lips as his fingers dig into the earth beneath him. He pants softly even though nothing has happened…pathetic. Katara nods towards the Painted Lady who needs no further instruction before wrapping her hands around his cock. He lets out a deep groan that rumbles in his chest, his head falls back and rolls against Katara's shoulder, making her squeeze his throat tighter.

Aang’s breathing was labored as he felt the Painted Lady’s dainty hand grip his cock, pumping painstakingly slow. He needed more, so much more that he bucked his hips again to chase the feeling.

A sudden sharp slap was planted on his thigh, making him jolt and wince slightly. He was shocked—Katara was shocked as they looked down at the Painted Lady. “Stay still,” she growled. Aang’s ears burned, his whole face was a red hue as the Painted Lady stared at him intensely, burning a hole through his head. Katara’s hands moved from his throat down to his wrist, pinning them behind his back.

Katara’s lips grazed his earlobe gently. “You heard her, stay still,” Katara whispers before biting his ear.

“Yes ma’am,” Aang whimpers. The Painted Lady looks up at him with a fierce gaze—she pulls her hands away just for a moment before crudely spitting on his cock, making him moan deeply. Her hands are back on him in seconds, pumping his thick length and watching how the foreskin pulls back to reveal his leaky tip.

He’s a mess, it’s too much. The way the Painted Lady’s wrist flicked while stroking him and how Katara kissed his jaw and neck was driving him insane. He felt hot all over—like he was about to explode as he moaned uncontrollably. She starts pumping him faster, her spit and his precum making it so easy for her hand to work him.

“Feels good?” Katara coos. “You look so pretty like this,” she teases. Aang almost loses it as he leans back into Katara’s touch—his hands straining against hers to break free. All he could do was whimper softly as his lips stay parted.

Aang starts panting heavily—he can feel his core tightening, legs trembling as his cock twitches in her hands. “Look at you, doing so good for the both of us,” Katara whispers.

“I’m-,” he groans deeply as his whole body tenses. Before he can even get the words out, his cum paints his lower abdomen and his lap—covering the Painted Lady’s hand in thick ropes.

“You came already?” Katara taunts. Aang’s whole face turns bright red at the sudden teasinging. He didn’t expect it himself as he looked down at the mess. He closed his eyes while now fully resting on Katara, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he started to come down from the intense orgasm.

He suddenly lets out the most pathetic whiny gasp as he feels hands on his softening cock again. His eyes shoot open and he sees the Painted Lady gently massaging his balls—he can’t take it, his hands break free from Katara’s grasp as he places his hand over the Painted Lady’s, looking at her with pleading eyes. She looks back at him for a moment before pulling her hands away completely. He lets out a soft sigh—which is quickly replaced by a sharp inhale. His hand gently touches his cheek where a red handprint is already forming.

Aang’s gaze snaps back to the Painted Lady. “Did you just slap me?” he asks while holding his cheek. She doesn’t answer. Aang turns to Katara who’s trying her best to hold back a laugh. He turns back to the Painted Lady—her expression still the same.

“I said…stay still,” she says firmly—before breaking out into a wolfish grin. Her hands find themselves back on his softened length, gripping him gently as she starts milking him for whatever he’s got left.

He pleads. “Please,” he whimpers softly as his face scrunches in pleasure despite himself—his cock harden again and standing at full attention.

Katara gently turns Aang’s face to meet hers, pressing a tender kiss to his lips to distract him from everything—cupping his face as her thumb gently caresses his cheek, suddenly he is not too worried about having been slapped. The kiss is slow, their lips moving against each others like a comforting embrace.

Katara pulls back, a string of saliva connecting them. “Do you want us to stop?” she asks softly.

“Yes!” Aang nearly cried out. He panted softly before calming down. “No…I don’t know,” he whined and shifted slightly.

Aang was overwhelmed and dazed—he liked her hands on him, loved it even, but it was too much. The way she said nothing, looked down at him like he was nothing made something in him stir—something he couldn’t describe.

“Tell us what you want?” Katara says. She kisses his head gently—her lips lingering before pulling away —and he melts into her touch. “We’re here for you,” she coos.

The stark contrast between the two women was driving him insane. Katara was familiar, home—and the painted lady was something from a wild fantasy. Aang let out a soft whimper he didn’t know he was holding, making the painted lady chuckle to herself.

“W-what’s funny?” Aang managed to get out, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. The painted lady's eyes met his and he immediately shrank. Her gaze was intense and piercing, making his cock twitch in her hands.

He looked like he was about to cry, a soft pink hue covering his entire body—yet he dared to test her. It was bold really.

“Is that a real question?” She retorts and he bites his tongue—not know if he should even answer, fearing he might be slapped again. But deep down…he craved that thrill.

He’s so close to coming again, his entire body coiled tight with pleasure. “Fuck,” he whines and the Painted Lady raises a brow, pumping him faster. “Please,” he lets out a loud choked sob as his balls draw tight. His cock swelling as he feels his second orgasm about to rip through him.

“Use your words Aang, what do you want?” Katara murmured against his ear.

“I need to cum!” He cries out—his face covered in hot tears as he breathes heavily. His body twists one way and then the other as he tries to break free of their grasp, but based on his efforts you’d think he actually liked being overpowered and overstimulated.

Katara leans down, darting out her tongue to lick the tears on his cheek before kissing him—making him taste how pathetic he is. He cries harder, his eyes rolling back as he feels his orgasm about to rip through him. It builds and builds, and then—nothing. His eyes meet the Painted Lady’s, she’s smirking up at him as she pulls her hands away from his aching cock.

He sniffles softly before speaking. “I was c-close,”

“You don’t cum unless we say so from here on out,” she says as she stands, towering over him. His cock jumps and she smirks down at him again before removing her garments. His eyes flutter, it’s like looking at Katara but somehow different. His eyes drift up and down her body, just taking in the sight. Katara stands and follows suit, pulling her clothes off and tossing them onto the grass beside him.

“Clothes off. Now,” Katara commands and Aang scrambles to get the rest of his clothes off. “Good boy,” she praises. His cock is hard and pulsing as his big grey eyes dart between the two women towering over him. They look like Amazonian Goddesses. His Amazonian Goddesses.

He groans, wrapping his hand around his cock and giving it a firm squeeze.

The Painted Lady tilts her head ever so slightly. “Keep your hands where we can see them,” she says.

He looks off to the side before back at her. “They are where you can see them,” he says like a smartass.

“Are you getting fresh with me?” she asks.

“I think he is,” Katara adds.

Aang shakes his head. “No-,”

“I think someone should shut him up,” Katara smirks. They nod simultaneously before the Painted Lady walks over and stoops down, hovering just above Aang’s face. Her pussy was inches from his face, he could just reach out and grab her—slamming her hips onto his face and devouring her pussy, but he knew he’d be in more trouble by doing so.

She slowly sinks down, straddling his face. She lets out a soft moan as his mouth immediately latches onto her clit. He eats her out like a starved man, lapping at her juices like she’s the only bit of water in a drought. “Mmph,” he moans, the vibration making her keel over—her hands landing on his pecs and squeezing subtly.

Katara watches in awe as her man devours a woman that looks exactly like her, sounds like her, and talks like her. The visual was beyond erotic and it made something in her stir. Without thinking, Katara walks over to them. She watches as the Painted Lady’s face scrunches in pleasure as Aang’s tongue flattens and licks through her folds. Katara carefully straddles Aang’s hips, grabbing the base of his cock—gently sliding it between her folds and getting it wet. Aang whines softly and the Painted Lady digs her nails into his pecs.

Katara lifts her hips before sinking down onto Aang’s length—no matter how many times they do it, she can never get over the stretch. As she slowly sank down onto his thick, throbbing cock, he lets out a muffled groan. The sensation is overwhelming—her tight pussy stretching to accommodate his massive size. Aang’s tongue moves faster around the Painted Lady's clit automatically, making her gasp loudly. Katara takes this as an opportunity—she grabs the back of the Painted Lady's neck and pulls her in for a deep and breathless kiss. They share a moan that's muffed by the other as Katara starts moving, lifting and dropping her hips onto Aang's length. They pull away, smiling at each other with such a devious glint in their eyes. Katara can’t help but reach out, grabbing a handful of the Painted Lady’s tits and squeezing them gently—she rolls the hardened nipples between her fingers as she continues to bounce on Aang.

Aang was in bliss. Two pretty ladies above him—using him for their pleasure, and he didn't mind one bit. Subconsciously his hands come up to grip the Painted Lady's thighs, pulling her flush against his face, his nose nudging her clit and making her gasp loudly. She grinds her hip into him—matching his pace as his tongue moves vigorously through her folds. In seconds she’s coming undone and the sound of her breathless moans fills his head, going straight to his cock. He twitches.

The Painted Lady rolls off of Aang, legs trembling as she gradually comes down from her orgasm. Without wasting time she brings her lips to his and kisses him roughly, tasting herself on him. Her tongue tangles with his and they share one of the sloppiest kisses he’s ever had.

She pulls back, gripping his chin. “Open,” she commands softly and he obeys—instantly, sticking his tongue out. With that, she purses her lips and spits directly in his mouth. “Swallow,” she growls as she closes his mouth. Aang swallows, eyes gleaming with newfound interest.

The Painted Lady moves closer to Katara—her hands resting on her waist as she helps her bounce on Aang’s cock. They’re chasing her orgasm together and they didn’t even know it.

“Look at that. Taking him so well,” The Painted Lady whispers to Katara. Aang’s eyes widen as they then lean in and kiss each other—lips moving against one another like it was something familiar. With a deep groan he grips Katara’s hips—his large hands covering the Painted Lady’s as he stills their movements, his orgasm hitting him like a truck. His load is thick, painting the inside of her walls in a matter of seconds as she comes undone too with a soft cry.

Katara slowly pulls herself off of him—the way his cum leaks out of her is almost pornographic. Aang drapes one arm over his face, trying to calm himself.

“Holy fuck,” he suddenly groans out as his fist clench. The feeling of two warm tongues licking his length clean sends him into a psychosis. His hand immediately reaches out—grabbing a fist full of hair, tugging it gently. “Fuck, stop…please,” he begs, but they just stare up at him—their tongues moving simultaneously up and down his cock. Their eyes lock and his lips part to speak but only a small whimper escapes him.

The Painted Lady is kissing up his shaft while Katara sucks one of his balls into her mouth. “Please, I can’t take anymore,” he says as his grip tightens.

“Too much?” The Painted Lady teases.

Aang can only nod as he looks down at them through teary eyes. “I-I can’t,” he manages.

“Too bad,” Katara adds. He tosses his head back into the grass with a defeated groan. They go back to torturing his spent cock—suckling the head and massaging his balls. The Painted Lady’s hand smoothes down Katara’s back as she watches her take his whole length to the back of her throat.

“Nice and easy,” The Painted Lady coos as her fingers find Katara’s clit, circling it slowly—she runs her slender fingers through her folds, teasing her entrance before pushing it inside.

Aang’s hips buck and he cums with a strained cry, surprising Katara as she swallows it. He’s all flushed, body aching, and head spinning. The Painted Lady’s fingers never stop working their way in and out of Katara, making her pull off of Aang as she cums again with a soft moan. The Painted Lady pulls her fingers from Katara, admiring how they’re covered in her juices. She brings her fingers to Aang’s lips and he opens eagerly, licking them clean—making sure he gets in between the digits.

They all lay back in the grass, naked the same way they entered this world. “Now do you know how you want her to exist?” Katara smirks.

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ: @luxesiren @crudeandoffputting @torawro @purple-nugget

#icymi <3 #atla smut #atla fanfiction #katara smut #aang fanfic